I sit back, watching the chaos unfold.
And just when he thinks it’s over, I plant drug paraphernalia and tip off the cops. Timmy is arrested and locked up, his worst nightmare realized. A month in jail.
I savor his distress as he sits helpless, behind bars, and watch his facade begin to crack. The charm he once wielded soeffortlessly fails to find an audience among the hardened faces around him.
His agitation grows with each passing day, his nerves fraying as paranoia seeps in—are his cellmates whispering about him?
He can't sleep, haunted by nightmares of betrayal and public humiliation.
Depression takes root as the weight of his tarnished reputation becomes inescapable, and he’s left to stew in the silence, spiraling further into despair.
One day, during shower time, a few other inmates decide they like the look of his long hair from behind and they descend upon him, forcing themselves into him while he cries out begging them to stop. “That’s what you get for raping Margaux, you piece of shit,” I say out loud to myself.
By the time he’s released, the once smug, self-assured Timmy is nothing but a shadow of himself—angry, broken, and consumed by the fear that the world now sees him for exactly who he is.
His life crumbles further, his reputation in more tatters than ever before.
Good luck getting a date now, Timmy.
Good luck finding a job.
Good luck escaping the shadow of your own lies.
But still—despite all of this evidence—his father stands blindly by his side, falling for Timmy’s justifications, his rationalizations, his excuses. Phil clings to the idea of his son as a misunderstood victim, a man who the world just can’t appreciate.
Even with the evidence laid bare, Phil refuses to see it.
“It’s all lies,” he says to anyone who will listen. “My boy’s been set up. He’s a good kid, just lost his way. These people are out to get him.”
Phil defends Timmy with every ounce of misguided loyalty he has, blaming everyone else—Margaux, the cops, the system, society. It’s everyone’s fault but Timmy’s.
And that’s what keeps Timmy going. That unshakable enabler. That one person who will never stop believing in his lies, no matter how transparent they are.
It’s almost sad.Almost.
But not enough to make me stop.
You don’t get to hurt my Margaux and walk away unscathed. You don’t get to move on while she’s picking up the pieces.
I’ll make sure of that.
CHAPTER 147
A ROOM OF TRUTHS
DEX
THE NEXT DAY
It’s time for the next phase of my plan. Margaux thinks I have an overnight work trip, but that was a white lie. I’m taking a personal day instead. Because I have other plans.Plans to make things right.
The air in the room is dense, heavy with years of pain and injustice. I lean against the doorframe, watching Phil squirm in the chair, his wrists tied firmly to the armrests. He refuses to look at the walls, his face cast downward like a scolded child.
"Look," I command, my voice a razor slicing through the silence.
He shakes his head, muttering something incoherent.
I stride forward, gripping the sides of his head and forcing it upward. His resistance is feeble. He squeezes his eyes shut, as if darkness could save him.